A Dark Lord's Best Friend
by Notyou21
Summary: The most important thing for Fudge is being Minister of Magic. So when his position is threatened, he cannot help but try to fix things, and botch it up terribly - with Dumbledore's help, of course.


_**Dumbledore for Minister?**_

_-Jeanne Adams_

_In a dramatic turn of events in the last conference of the International Confederation of Wizards, Albus Dumbledore has announced his recent intentions of taking up the top job in Britain. _

'_I shall not be surprised if Cornelius resigns in the next few weeks considering the current state of affairs.' He said in a statement to our reporters, 'If Britain needs me, I shall answer its call and lead them against the dark forces that threaten our survival.'_

_This of course, will come as a huge blow to the current minister, Cornelius Fudge, who has been making desperate efforts to hold on to his…._

_ Continued on Page 2._

* * *

Cornelius Fudge, the man of the hour, pushed the newspaper angrily across his desk, not able to tolerate the benevolent twinkling eyes of Dumbledore mocking him any further. It was true, the entire ministry was ridiculing him for not taking any action against Voldemort before he showed up at their front door. It was disastrous. Even the morning tea witch was making fun of him.

'Enjoy your tea, minister.' She had said in her husky voice, banging the tray down on his table.

Some people might have considered saying thank you, but Fudge was a busy man. Such niceties were below his stature.

'Close the door as you go.' He had said shortly, not even glancing at her.

'Of course, minister. I'll do that as you go. Sorry, as _I_ _go_.' She had said, putting unnecessary stress on the word 'go'. Fudge could have sworn he had heard a slight giggle as she went, of all the cheek.

He had recurring nightmares about Dumbledore showing up in his office with that stupid glowing bird of his, and humiliating him in front of his whole staff. His headaches were never ceasing even throughout the day. But he would not resign, he had decided, if it came to the worst. He would fight to the bitter end, doing his best to save his country from evil with all disregard for personal dignity. That would be a nice angle to play up for the newspapers.

He glanced at his desk, several reports had come in of a mass Death Eater muggles killings in a pub. He rubbed his forehead, the obliviators were already spread thin. There was only one thing for him to do now, he desperately needed some advice. He took some Floo powder and said "Dumbledore's office" as he stepped into the green flames.

* * *

_Two days later_

'I need your help.' Said Cornelius Fudge, current Minister of Magic, barging into his senior undersecretary's office.

Umbridge stood up instantly, slightly annoyed at the untimely interruption of her daily dose of the _Weird Sisters_. She quickly turned off the radio and adopted a sickly sweet smile,

'Of course, Minister.' She simpered, 'Anything you want.'

'I need you to gather as much information as you can on people who are against Dumbledore and arrange a meeting with me. The closer they are to them, the better. He is _not_ going to take my office.' Fudge had a grim look on his face, Dumbledore's Army was _not_ going to make a conquest out of him.

Umbridge smiled a bit constrainedly as she saw the minister out of the door. _This was not good. _She had seldom seen Fudge as serious as she saw him then and this did not bode well. She would have to do _actual_ _work_. But as long as it kept him, and consequently _her,_ in power, it might just be worth it.

It took her five minutes to come up with the first name. _You-Know-Who_ was scrawled illegibly on top. _Death Eaters_ was the second entry.

_Hmmm, arranging a meeting with them was not going to be an easy task._

Umbridge yawned, and unconsciously turned on the radio with a flick of her wand.

_Our Love is like a sticking charm _was playing, and the saxophone really seemed to call her to her.

She put her list neatly into a pile labelled '_For the Junior Minister'_ and settled more comfortably into her armchair. The music soothed her mind.

Life was good.

* * *

A very harried red haired undersecretary walked in unsurely into Fudge's office the next day.

'Ah, Weasley. What are you doing here?'

Percy puffed up his chest slightly, 'I finished the work you gave me yesterday.' He said, handing over a sheaf of paper with names written on it. Each name was followed by a small paragraph with several underlines and notes alongside it.

'I had to work all night and you won't _believe-'_

'Stop right there, Weasley. It was nice of you to drop by Dolores' work. I'm sure she has a lot on her plate this morning. As it is, I have too and it would be nice to get some peace and quiet to do it in.'

Percy deflated slightly at the dismissal and didn't even bother correcting Fudge that _he_ had done the work, not Umbridge. There was something very important which he had to bring to the minister's attention.

'Please, Minister. About the matter of cauldron bottoms we talked about last month-' He began importantly but was immediately shot down by _that_ look on the minister's face. That look was a staple feature of the Minister's repertoire of disapproval, and Percy recognised it quite well as he had the last time they had discussed about cauldrons.

He quickly strode out.

* * *

The Next Day

A faint smell of alcohol hung in the air as darkened lanterns and lamps lit the stuffy establishment. The walls had several cracks from which thin green vines crawled out in stifling abandon. A man in a very high collared trench coat sat at the bar with his head partially bent. He held his glass of firewhisky gingerly and pretended to take a sip every now and then.

'I need your help, Dumbledore.' He said in a loud whisper, the glass slipping from between his fingers.

'No, yeh don't.' Aberforth, the owner of Hog's head replied, 'You got plenty of those ministry lackeys to help you.' He sat beside him, surveying every inch of the place with his brilliant blue eyes.

'They can't help me discredit Dumbledore. I _need…'_

'Look here, Fu-' The barman interrupted gruffly.

'_Don't_ say my name.' The minister hushed angrily.

'A'right, toffee man. But you better believe me when I'm saying even though I'm not very fond of my brother, I'm not fond of you either. We're done here.' Aberforth said this in a very decisive manner, clearly indicating he was not interested in continuing this conversation.

'You're saying you don't have a reason to help me?' The politician in Fudge spoke.

'You're bloody right I don't.'

'I can exempt you from taxes for a month.'

Aberforth laughed heartily, 'I'm not that drunk yet. I _said_ get outta here.'

'3 months.' Fudge countered.

Aberforth took another swig of his drink and got up, 'You better pay up the 11 sickles before you leave.' He said in a rough voice.

'One year and a ministry silver standard certification for this place.' Fudge struggled to keep his voice steady. He _really_ needed this.

Aberforth sat down with a heavy creek of his stool. He was grinning slightly.

'Now _you're_ talking.' He banged his glass of mead down on the table.

Fudge nervously wiped his brow, 'You'll help me?'

Aberforth grinned evilly, "As long as you keep your end of the bargain. And buy me a drink while you're at it.''

* * *

_**Lucius Malfoy: "I was Imperiused… Again."**_

_\- By Jeanne Adams_

_It becomes more and more unlikely that Minister Fudge will be able to retain his position as Minister. In a universally unpopular move, Lucius Malfoy was given a retrial in the Wizengamot due to recent evidence claiming that he was previously false memory charmed into thinking that he was not imperiused. The source of this evidence seems to be unclear, however it is rumoured that this was engineered by Minister Fudge himself in order to gain some much needed support in the Ministry. Despite overwhelming evidence in the last trial, Malfoy was acquitted this time around. Albus Dumbledore is said to have vehemently opposed this decision, but the vote swung decisively in Malfoy's favour due to contribution from the pureblood faction. He testified under Veritaserum of his intentions which... Continued on Page 3._

* * *

Lucius Malfoy apparated into the Ministry like he owned it. His razor sharp eyes left anyone who looked at them with a slight shiver down their back. Here was a man who would murder your entire family without staining his robes. He wouldn't have a shred of remorse. It would be business as usual for him, because it _was_ business for him. His finely polished cane was like a weapon in his hands. It would be quite unsurprising if one saw a knife come out of it at one end.

Here was a man whose pale face promised pain to those who crossed them and every single one of the ministry officials who passed by gave him a wider berth than usual.

Lucius smirked at absolutely nobody in particular. He strode in triumphant progress right through the centre of the marble passageway. A few disgruntled stares were all he received in return.

He walked right into the Minister's office. He knew he had Fudge right under his thumb and intended to keep things that way.

Fudge got up at once.

'Thank you for coming so promptly, Mr Malfoy.'

'We had an agreement.' Lucius said coldly, cutting to the chase.

Fudge turned his bowler hat cautiously, 'We did. But I needed to do this to retain my position as Minister.'

Lucius swore under his breath. The Dark Lord had specifically requested Cornelius be removed from his post. Fudge listened to Dumbledore too much, especially when he didn't know what to do. Voldemort needed a new minister, someone he could _control_.

'Sit down, Cornelius.' Said Malfoy, taking a deep breath and barely holding back an angry retort. Fudge stared coldly at the man in front of him who he had once thought to be a friend. The Minister felt deeply insulted. He resented being told to sit down in his _own_ office.

'I think I'll remain standing, Lucius. State your concerns.'

The animosity was nauseatingly evident between the two.

'Remember how you came to power, Cornelius.' Lucius said warningly, 'The Daily Prophet was not to print anything relating to your campaign without my approval.' The death eater slowly inched his hand towards his wand, the threat evident.

'But… but this will help me remain Minister.' Fudge floundered.

_You bloody fool, _Lucius thought inwardly. The article was disastrous. It practically guaranteed Dumbledore would not become minister, as neither would the type of person Voldemort wanted to.

He was the one in power here. The Minister was simply not understanding that.

'Listen carefully, Corn-' He started.

'_I_ am the minister here, Lucius. I care more about my power than your donations. I will _not_ be ordered around by you.'

Lucius raised his eyebrows, "I'm sure we can come to some arrangement." He said silkily.

'We cannot, Lucius.' Fudge said heatedly ,' Do not forget that what can be given, can be taken away just as easily.' He was the one who had Lucius freed, wasn't he? Why did he do that anyways?

The meeting ended soon after that thinly veiled declaration of war from the usually docile head of the magical community of Britain. Fudge _had_ changed.

Malfoy was left seething as he walked out. This Dark Lord would not be pleased. Pius Thicknesse had to be the next in line and Fudge, of all people, was not going to stop that.

* * *

Aberforth pulled at his long silver beard as he climbed the stairs to his living space above the Hog's Head. He could hear the Minister and his assistant following on the creaky staircase behind him. He was going to do something he had vowed he would never do again in his life.

A bit of moisture formed in front of his eyes.. Rainbow coloured specks danced in a soundless rhythm. Aberforth was quick to blink his tears away. But it was to no avail. The past flashed in front of his eyes. Old memories came as thick and fast as if he was in a pensieve.

'Where to now, Aberforth?' Fudge asked from behind him, tapping his foot impatiently.

Aberforth realised he had been standing in front of a wall for some time now. He could not allow himself to be distracted.

'This way, Minister.' He said, turning left into his storage room. A quick _Lumos _lit his wand as he put it between his teeth. He bent down to pick up a small iron box which was covered in dust. With a heavy grunt he lifted it onto a table nearby. He was filled with remorse as he remembered when he had locked it for the first time.

"_You know I'm never going to let you down, Albus." _He had said. But it seemed as if Albus had always known he would. The slightly sad look in his brother's eyes as he had placed a gentle hand on his shoulder was especially reminiscent.

"_I know you would never want to." _Had been his exact words. Not that he never would, but that he would never want to. Those days, Albus didn't believe in anyone, including his own family.

Aberforth had a tight feeling in his chest as these scenes flashed before his eyes. He couldn't bring himself to stand and watch as the Minister dissected his only brother's reputation. But he desperately needed the money, the goblins had already threatened to evict him. He was betraying Albus's trust, but he never deserved it anyway

'I'll leave you to it.' He managed to choke out, and left them as he walked down to the bar to get himself a drink. It was midday, but Aberforth couldn't bring himself to care. There was a strange feeling in the back of his head that he had forgotten something, but it was all strangely insignificant as he drowned his sorrows in his drink.

The room descended in darkness as the barman left.

'Light up the room, Umbridge.' Fudge's voice rang out commandingly.

'Excellent idea, Minister.' She said and lit her wand, her face reminding Fudge disconcertingly of a toad in the dim light.

Fudge approached the box and turned its handle eagerly. Would it be proof that Dumbledore had been practising dark magic or that he was secretly controlling Harry Potter through a mixture of compulsion charms and love potions? Both ideas sounded equally enticing .

However there was one little problem.

'The safe doesn't seem to be opening, Dolores.'

Umbridge thought for a while, 'It might be locked.' She said, 'I know just the thing.'

She flicked her wand while saying Alohomora. The safe remained shut.

'Alohomora.' She said again, a bit more clearly. The safe stubbornly refused to open. 'Stupid spell. Damn that silly little school for teaching such stuff in first year. Stupid little wand movements.' She muttered irritably and concentrated a _bit_ harder.

'_Alohomora_.' She said.

On the third try the safe swung open revealing a single piece of paper inside. No, it wasn't a paper. It was a solitary very old black and white picture. It showed a young Dumbledore with some other boy smiling and waving their wands.

'Exemplary piece of spellwork, Dolores.' Said Fudge, clapping his hands together, 'Remind me to give you a raise when we get back to the office. Now what do we have here?'

'It's just an old picture, Minister.'

'Excellent.' Said Fudge, picking up the picture.

'You know who it is of?' Dolores asked curiously.

'No idea.' Said Fudge, smiling, 'But it is exactly what I need.'

The undersecretary raised an eyebrow, but refrained from commenting on the Minister's odd behaviour. He had been acting a lot like this lately. It was probably just the stress getting to him. Poor man, he was really worried about his position.

* * *

_The Next Day_

Dumbledore sat in his office and serenely popped a lemon drop into his mouth. The sweets were probably bad for him, but what was the use of being a powerful wizard if you didn't get to enjoy a few sugary snacks every now and then?

He was reading the newspaper. The headlines pleased him.

_Dumbledore: A Dark Lord's best friend?_

It went on to detail his questionable relationship with Grindelwald along with a few visual evidences. It also emphasized highly on the fact that during this time of war, only a battle hardened veteran would be able to lead magical Britain to victory. There was no question of politicians with empty promises ascending to the throne. A category which he himself had been placed into apparently.

Dumbledore knew the Prophet would continue in this vein for a week, at the end of which the vote would take place. Lucius would once again prove invaluable, he owed Dumbledore a great deal.

He knew he had no chance of being minister, but he had never wanted to in the first place. The important thing was politicians and bureaucrats like Thicknesse, Montague or Travers were equally out of question. That left only Rufus Scrimgeour as a viable candidate, which was exactly what Dumbledore had wanted.

His fireplace suddenly glowed green as the current Minister stepped out.

'Hello, Cornelius.' Dumbledore said with a grim smile.

'Dumbledore, you can't get away with this.' Fudge was visibly struggling as he got these words out. Dumbledore frowned. Everything was going remarkably well for him, on the contrary. He had learned quite a few useful things. He now knew Aberforth could not be trusted, Voldemort was gathering power politically and Malfoy was more useful alive than dead to him, for now. Oh, and Jeanne Adams definitely deserved a pay raise.

'You have been of great help, old friend.' The old wizard said.

'_Dumbledore_...' Was all Fudge managed to growl out.

'Now.' Said Dumbledore pleasantly, 'Remember to resign next week.'

He paused, taking out his wand with a sorrowful look on his face, 'This is for the Greater Good, as I'm sure you will understand.'

Fudge's eyes widened, he knew what was coming, unlike the last time he had been here.

'_Imperio.' _Said Dumbledore, and smiled to himself.

A Dark Lord's best friend, indeed.


End file.
